


Camp Hukthar

by hazelandglasz



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 04:54:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3965143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelandglasz/pseuds/hazelandglasz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>anonymous asked:<br/>Whoops we are both camp counselors and we share a tent and I was sleeping on a bump and now we're spooning AU? (Sterek)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Camp Hukthar

Camp Hukhtar is Derek’s pocket of peace, as weird as it may sound.

Sure, the kids are noisy, and sure his legs are dead tired by the end of the summer, but it’s his escape from his life 10 months a year, and that’s priceless to him.

In the border of the Mojave desert, the camp feels like a cleanse from the dirt of the city, from the noise and the filth of it.

Derek inhales deeply the moment he’s out of the car, taking in the smell of clean dirt–what?–and the perfume of the blossoming cacti–so the desert makes him wax poetics, what?–and he closes his eyes to welcome the warm breeze caressing his skin–shut up.

And then there are the other camp counselors.

Derek doesn’t know why he doesn’t hang out with them the rest of the year–they’re all … fun, in their ways, and they do live in the same area.

Then again, there is a little voice in his head that whispers that they only hang out with him because he’s the heir of the founders of the Camp–even if all evidence point to the contrary.

Erica wouldn’t prepare marshmallow sticks just for him during their 2 a.m. briefing just because his name is on the paperwork.

Nor Boyd would offer to help him overlook the River trip.

Nor Stiles would propose his own tent to share when his own gets shredded to pieces by a wild game of “Catch the Husk”.

Stiles–the other camp counselor, with the same endless energy as their campers and with a skin that seemingly turns from pale to red to brown in a heartbeat is Derek’s most important motivational factor in returning, year after year, in the desert.

He has such a crush on him that it’s not even funny, and he would have mumbled a refusal if it was sharing a tent with Stiles or wrap his blanket around him and pray not to freeze to death.

A tent it is.

Even if Stiles is the most vocal counselor Derek has ever seen–and how does someone gets so passionate and knowledgeable about using wood versus feces to make a fire–, Derek finds a sense of calm with him in his team.

By his side.

With him.

Oh dammit, is there a way to phrase that without making Derek sound like someone out of a Harlequin novel?

…He has two sisters, what do you think he finds in their common library?

But still, sharing a tent.

All kinds of troubles could befall him.

Or, and Derek is counting on it, witnessing Stiles’ sleeping habit could cure him of his crush.

Because until he has proofs showing otherwise, Derek thinks that Stiles would look even sexier while sleeping–all huggable and comfortable and shirtless.

Yeah, he definitely needs to see Stiles wearing a dumb t-shirt and making unspeakable noises in his sleep.

That’s the only solution.

…

Except that Stiles wears an adorable [tank top](http://i3.cpcache.com/product/627063880/panda_face_mens_tank_top.jpg?color=White&height=460&width=460&qv=90) to bed, with a soft-looking pair of black [shorts ](http://i.walmartimages.com/i/p/00/63/54/24/25/0063542425445_500X500.jpg)that hug his legs and ass like a second skin.

And he brushed his teeth before coming to the tent.

And he offers a pillow to Derek, even though he came into the tent with all of his sleeping stuff.

“I guessed that you’re so grumpy because you don’t sleep properly,” Stiles says when Derek holds it up, a crooked smirk on his face.

Derek is not grumpy, thank you very much.

… But he doesn’t exactly sleep soundly either, so maybe Stiles has a point–not that Derek would ever tell him that.

So he grabs the pillow, nods and grunts, and lies on his side, his back to Stiles.

“Good night, Derek,” Stiles says softly, before settling down for the night.

Well, Derek was right: Stiles does make noises when he sleeps.

But it’s not disgusting or unspeakable, it’s actually … fascinating, and soothing too. It’s like Stiles is monologuing in his sleep, but not with words, with soft sounds and  smacks of his lips, and Derek could use it as a lullaby all year long–for, you know, the nights when sleep eludes him.

Not to have Stiles in his bed, what are you even–okay, he’s not even convincing himself here.

And Derek wouldn’t even have this internal debate about his lack of conviction and his willingness to open his bed to Stiles if he was asleep.

Which he isn’t.

Because the ground is not flat underneath his body, and it’s infuriating.

If he wasn’t afraid to awake Stiles, Derek would throw away his sleeping bag and stomp on the dirt to flatten it, like a dog pawing at its bed, but as it is, all Derek can do is roll away from the lump.

–

The first thing Stiles notices when he wakes up is that he feels warm.

Then again, this is the Mojave desert–accent on Desert–so he doesn’t pay it too much attention and settles down, snuggling up to–

_Hold on._

He went to sleep alone, of course, so who is he snuggling up to?

Who is holding him, and warming him, like Stiles is some kind of oversized stuffed toy?

And more importantly, alarmingly and questionably, who is trying to literally … “stuff” him?

Cause that’s definitely not a cactus nor a snake poking at his ass, thank you very much.

Wiggling, Stiles tries to turn around to identify his … bringer of morning joy, but whoever it is tightens their hold on him and starts nosing right behind his ear.

So unfair.

“Hmm…”

Alright, he knows that wordless hum.

He has become something of an expert to understand and translate Derek Hale’s many nonverbal ways of communication.

Though Stiles has to admit that he has never been so lucky as to hear that level of contentment, happiness, comfort in Derek’s voice.

It makes something warm pool in Stiles’ belly.

Derek’s fingers on his stomach twitch, and Stiles can feel him vibrate–purr?–against his neck.

Stiles bites on his lips to keep silent, and he puts his hand over Derek’s on reflex.

“Shtiiiiles…”

Uh?

Not only does that sound bizarrely like Stiles’ name on Derek’s lips–against the sensitive spot on the nape of his neck, shit–but Derek couples it with a roll of his hips.

Holy.

Motherfucking.

Shit.

And  _kudos_ , Mr. Hale.

One of Derek’s hands slides up Stiles’ chest, covering a pectoral while the other remains on his stomach, and fuck if Stiles wants to lean into Derek’s embrace.

Except that it’s totally inappropriate, because even in the case that Derek is thinking of Stiles, he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

So Stiles does the respectable thing to do: he tears himself from Derek’s arms and rolls him back to his spot.

“Huh? Wha–?”

Alright, Derek Hale has no right looking so cute when he’s waking up like a lost pup.

“Rise and shine, counselor,” Stiles says cheerfully, stretching his arms up like he’s only waking up now. “It’s a beautiful day in the Mojave desert, and we have campers to entertain!”

As he stands up and rolls his sleeping bag, Stiles catches Derek looking at him with a small, private smile and he devises a plan.

Now that he knows that he at least has a sliver of chance with Derek, he’s going to woo the shit out of him.

—

There is only one explanation for Stiles’ very random behavior.

Heat stroke.

Because Derek can’t, for the life of him, figure out why Stiles is smiling at him 24/7; why he’s trying to force him to drink some kind of milk gone bad; why, and that’s the one that makes Derek curious the most, Stiles insists on teaching the kids how to  _twerk_.

It’s a good activity, don’t get him wrong, it’s good for the kids to dance and yes, Derek can appreciate the aesthetic of watching Stiles … working it, but the question of why is really bothering him.

He tries talking about it with Erica, who starts laughing at him so loudly she wheezes through it and still is when he leaves without a word.

He talks about it with Boyd, but his friend gives him such a pitying look that Derek walks away with his head bowed.

Eventually, it’s Scott who brings some lights onto the situation.

Stiles’ best friend, and the leader of the Camp’s climbing activities, takes Derek aside to “talk some sense” into him.

“How long do you plan on pulling Stiles’ leg?”

“Uh?” Derek doesn’t play dumb, he doesn’t know how anyway, but right now, it feels like Scott is talking Chinese to him.

Scott sighs. “I understand enjoying the whole seduction, to feel wanted and desired, but don’t you think you owe to him to give him an answer?”

“The whole seduc– _what_?”

“I don’t care if you like him back, if you don’t, if you just want to have sex with him,” Scott continues, pink blossoming on his cheeks at the mention of sex, “but tell him for good.”

“Tell him what?!” Derek exclaims and Scott’s eyes widen.

“You don’t k–,” he starts before chuckling and clearing his throat. “You do realize that Stiles is seducing you, right?”

Derek lifts an unimpressed eyebrow.

“I swear on everything that I hold dear that this is Stiles seducing you.”

“Oh my.”

“Yeah I know.”

“He–he wants to date me?”

Scott rolls his eyes and grunts. “You are made for each other, ugh.”

“No but  _really_?”

“Yes really.”

Derek couldn’t stop the smile from stretching his lips even if he wanted to.

And Scott is smart enough to organize a little trip down a canyon for all the kids to take them away from the campsite and give the two idiots a little … privacy.


End file.
